Louis burst into tears, and sobbed out,--"And it is all my doing that
she came out with us; I deceived her, and my aunt will be angry and
much alarmed, for she did not know of her going at all. Dear
Catharine, good cousin Hector, pray forgive me!"

But Catharine was weeping too much to reply to his passionate
entreaties; and Hector, who never swerved from the truth, for which he
had almost a stern reverence, hardly repressed his indignation at what
appeared to him a most culpable act of deceit on the part of Louis.

The sight of her cousin's grief and self-abasement touched the tender
heart of Catharine; for she was kind and dove-like in her disposition,
and loved Louis, with all his faults. Had it not been for the painful
consciousness of the grief their unusual absence would occasion at
home, Catharine would have thought nothing of their present adventure;
but she could not endure the idea of her high-principled father taxing
her with deceiving her kind indulgent mother and him. It was this
humiliating thought which wounded the proud heart of Hector, causing
him to upbraid his cousin in somewhat harsh terms for his want of
truthfulness, and steeled him against the bitter grief that wrung the
heart of the penitent Louis, who, leaning his wet cheek on the
shoulder of Catharine, sobbed as if his heart would break, heedless of
her soothing words and affectionate endeavours to console him.

"Dear Hector," she said, turning her soft pleading eyes on the stern
face of her brother, "you must not be so very angry with poor Louis.
Remember it was to please me, and give me the enjoyment of a day of
liberty with you and himself in the woods, among the flowers and trees
and birds, that he committed this fault."